Nocturnal Routines
by Tabi
Summary: Some nights, Koizumi can't sleep. Some nights, Koizumi isn't allowed to sleep. References to one-sided Haruhi/Koizumi, Kyon/Koizumi


_nocturnal routines_

Koizumi lay over his bed without having managed to get inside it, the sheets bunched up and gathered around his legs. It was nearly midnight, but there was always light and movement beyond the window for those who wished to be disturbed by it. He could have closed his curtain. He _could_ have. Instead, he lay on one side, staring at the clock on the desk on the other side of the room, its quarterly digits glowing softly even now. He could just make out the movement of the second hand, ticking the world ever closer to midnight. The next day. The next morning. There would _be_ a next day. They were past that, now.

He drew his legs closer, missing the warmth from his previous position but lacking the enthusiasm to do anything to correct that. As he did so, sharp pain ran through the lower left side of his body. He winced and hissed at this, but a few (long) moments of his breath held (with his pulse throbbing through his body and blood pounding in his mind), the pain wore down slightly. Not enough to vanish, but enough to be bearable. (This was never _bearable_.)

Still. It was an honour, wasn't it? Not only to work on behalf of keeping the world safe, but to be one who lived alongside Suzumiya Haruhi herself...! Seeing her through the day and fighting _them _through the night, knowing more of her than she could ever know (all while still feeling like he knew nothing at all). They would watch. They would observe. If he was lucky, there would be some indication in her words or her mood as to the severity of the problem, when the problem arose. Sometimes, weeks could pass and there would be nothing but her smile. Sometimes, it was worse.

(It was worse now.)

Things were better now than they'd been before, though. He kept telling himself that. They might have been the bandage for the wound but sometimes you needed something more effective, and for that there was Kyon. Of course. Koizumi would let a bitter smile drift over his lips whenever he thought of that. All the work that they did, and sometimes all it would take would be a chance word from Kyon to lift her spirits and set the world safe once more. Still, this was just how things were. Strange line of work they were in. Was it all worth it? Of course. The safety of the world - _this_ world, kept as it was - was worth anything.

Koizumi would watch the clock and then look to his phone. The display lay dark, but he could press a button and it would light up. If he felt like it. He did. He did so. He went to his address book and looked at the names there.

_Suzumiya Haruhi._

He would spend far too long staring at that name, sometimes. It went against every rule and regulation, but sometimes he'd be tempted to press the button and call that number. Yes, it was midnight, but was there anything wrong in calling just to be sure? Just to check. _Are you alright? Of course. Of course. No reason. I just wondered._

He couldn't do that, of course. More trouble than it was worth. The possibility of setting alternate, unwanted trains of thoughts into action. Kyon was the one she'd chosen, after all.

Kyon had asked him that, once. It was fine to be '_the one chosen by Haruhi Suzumiya_', but what did that _mean_? In what sense had he been 'chosen'? What did he have to do?... Koizumi hadn't known the answers, any of them, and replied as such. Kyon looked dissatisfied, but anybody would have been with an answer like that. He'd looked precisely how Koizumi had felt. What _did_ it mean? Nobody knew. That was why she was being observed by every group and organisation across the cosmos and through the timelines. Because nobody _knew_. Not even those closest to her. _Especially_ not those closest to her.

In the darkness and the silence, he would think over those summer weeks, remember the deja-vu and wonder what they'd missed by constantly rewriting over the experience. He'd made that suggestion to Kyon and for a moment, there was the piercing sense that _he meant it._ It was a possibility, wasn't it? A possible possibility that could possibly happen. And it would confuse her. It could have undesired side-effects. It could completely break the balance of everything the Organisation (and others) had achieved but oh god, he could at least be in some kind of _control_ of the situation, and wouldn't that be worth it...?

... And yet he knew, for all those thoughts, that they were flawed straight from their root. Wanting to become somebody's happiness was perhaps a noble aim, but not like _that_. Koizumi felt himself too calculating for such fanciful considerations. Every word and action would be _what would make her happiest? What would put her in the best mood?_ and that was fine, surely that was what anybody wanted, but _not like that_. It was fine to smile and give the most favourable answer, but you couldn't live like that. Not seriously, constantly, _properly_. He knew he annoyed Kyon with his instant deference to Suzumiya, but that was what he was _there_ for. That was, after all, why he was there in the first place. And if he were the one chosen by her then he would keep that up for as long as it took, and that thought felt freeing and trapping both at once. Kyon could sometimes miss the wood for the trees, but at least he was genuine. Not the kind of person who wore a mask for so long it sometimes felt impossible to remove. That, Koizumi would often think, was probably how he'd become the one 'chosen'. Kyon didn't fit into any particular mould. He just _was_.

So too on that list was _Asahina Mikuru_. In the first days of the autumn term Koizumi had felt compelled also to phone her just to see, safe in the knowledge that at least that was _allowed_. Some might have frowned upon fraternisation with a time-traveller, but they didn't know the specifics of the situation. _Whatever._ Did she feel alright? Was everything fine? Could she still access the future? _Yes? Good._ Of course, now that school was back in session, the desires and regrets of the long summer months wouldn't be a concern for another passing year, but it didn't hurt to double-check. And he could still have phoned her, but he had no reason to, not now. Conversation would be short and to the point. She had too much classified information and he too had things he couldn't say. They were civil, but stilted. Of course, she came from the future. Who _knew_ what she knew...?

You couldn't have a conversation with Nagato. Koizumi admired Kyon for trying, even more for persevering. He tried, sometimes. You could only hold up a smile for so long. (So, so long.) If something was wrong, fine. If some information was urgently needed, fine. She would at least be awake past midnight, Koizumi knew that much. Nonetheless, he felt no urge to press that particular button.

He should have been sleeping. (Trying to sleep.) Resting up from the last time. Gaining strength for the next time. School tomorrow, too. Sleep meant being able to switch off, wind down, _rest and relax_. He needed his sleep. Really _needed_ it. Naturally, the more he needed it, the less he felt able to simply close his eyes and drift away. He ran his fingers along the hard lines and sides of his phone. There wasn't any _need_ to phone anybody and the more he watched, the more he dreaded the display lighting up from the one number he didn't want to see, calling him out and putting paid to any rest _that_ night. There wasn't any need to phone anybody, but his body ached and his mind was tired and in that moment, it felt the most desirable thing to just be able to talk about _nothing_. What was on television last night. That local shop having a sale. The newest game out. The homework they'd not done. _Whatever_. Anything so long as it wasn't missions and objectives and demands and _her_.

_Just for the duration of one phone call,_ _let's be normal._

Koizumi pressed down until Kyon's number was highlighted. He stared at it. Stared at the entry he'd given it. Knew all too well what his reaction would be if he ever knew.

_Kyon-kun 3~~_

To desire Suzumiya Haruhi would be to confuse her and send the world into the path of something completely unexpected. To desire he whom she'd chosen was, perhaps, a simpler matter; that path only brought destruction, clear-cut and straightforward. Taking the favourite toy of a petulant child. Again, Koizumi would feel the bitterness of his own smile and a pain that wasn't wholly physical just to consider it; you always wanted what you couldn't have, didn't you? They were both unknown, each for their own reasons. Suzumiya through being the distant observed subject, and Kyon--... just for being _Kyon_. And you weren't _supposed_ to want. He was supposed to be above that sort of thing, above it and far beyond it. Koizumi knew that if anyone were to find out, anyone _important_, he would be replaced on the mission as soon as was appropriate. The transfer student would transfer out, and that would be that. Suzumiya only needed somebody to smile for her, and that didn't _have_ to be him. Obviously it would be better to remain consistent, but if needs must...

Koizumi stared at Kyon's number. Would he be awake at this hour? Perhaps, perhaps not. It was well past the bedtime of any good schoolchildren, Koizumi knew that much. The air felt thick and humid and he wanted to sleep but wanted to _talk_ and who else was there but Kyon? If they talked about something or nothing or anything, it was fine. He could dress up some reason. He'd sensed some occurrence. Something could happen. _Be careful_. Anything like that; it didn't have to be true. Kyon wouldn't know either way. He'd keep an eye out, and when nothing happened? They'd got through it unscathed. It's fine. _It's fine_.

He pressed the button. The image changed. _Dialling_. Koizumi held the phone to his ear, heard the tone. It rang. It rang. He watched the seconds tick by, still. It rang.

There came the _click_ of a disconnect. Koizumi felt that faint sense of hope that had dared show its face sink rapidly within the confines of his allowed desire. He tried again. Held the phone to his ear.

"_The number you are dialling is not in service at this moment_..."

Hope vanished, replaced by a momentary surge of incoherent frustration. Throwing mobile phones was never a good idea, but Koizumi didn't care and let it skid across the carpet of his bedroom floor. Of course Kyon wouldn't pick up. Of course Kyon would turn his phone off. Of course he wouldn't want to talk. Of course. _Of course_. Koizumi rolled onto his back and ran his hands over his face, feeling tension build. What to do? He knew he should be trying to sleep, but the more he thought that, the more fractious his thoughts became. Everything was fine, wasn't it...? It was safe to try and sleep, right...? He took a deep breath, trying to rouse his rational side into some legitimate form of argument. Everything was fine. _Everything was fine_. It was fine to try to sleep. It was nighttime, wasn't it? Many people were asleep right now. Many people slept without worrying, many people slept while worrying. If the inevitable happened... well, it was inevitable. Sleeping or not wouldn't change this. Sleep seemed the better option. Koizumi closed his eyes, not that this made much difference. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Ignore that ache. Deep breaths.

The sound of his ringtone cut through the room's heavy atmosphere quite suddenly, causing Koizumi to sit up on reflex. His phone had fallen on its screen, but light leaked out from underneath. He sat and stared at it for a few seconds, momentarily bewildered. Was it Kyon? Had he woken Kyon up? Had he seen he had a missed call and was ringing back to see who it was, what it was, in case it was something important...? Koizumi felt almost guilty as he tried to reach out for the phone, then sinking off the bed to lean over to grab it. It _was_ too late, really. He'd make some excuse and keep it short, let Kyon get back to sleep. Try to get some himself. The reality of such a consideration blew the theoretical away, and everything seemed suddenly blessed by clarity.

_Then_ he saw the name on the display and froze, feeling weariness and irritation. It didn't stop ringing. It wouldn't, he knew it. He had to answer.

"... I'm here."

"_It's established in the southern residential district, close to the train station. We need you there immediately._"

Not even a greeting. Koizumi ran a hand through his hair, letting his fingers clench and pull. "... I'll be there."

"_Are you ready to deal with this?_" In other words, _are you well-rested? Were you asleep? Did we wake you?_... However, such concern was incredibly transparent. It didn't matter either way. Of _course_ he was ready (even if he wasn't, not really). He had to be. He always had to be, no matter what. That was his job, after all.

"I'm fine."

"_We'll be expecting you._"

_bip_

Koizumi let his hand holding the phone drop to one side. Naturally, the lethargy only ever hit in once he got _that_ kind of call. But he'd manage, because he had to, because he always did. Then there was school in the morning... maybe he'd take the day off. What was there tomorrow...? Any work due in? Koizumi weighed the pros and cons to himself as he slowly pushed himself out of bed, as he stood in the middle of the room and supposed he'd better throw some clothes on. Even with this, what reason did he have that the school would believe...? He'd just have to pull through, as usual. Like always.

And if the others saw or noticed or asked, he'd just smile and say _it's nothing, I'm fine--_!

As usual. Like always.


End file.
